


Prototypical

by Faize



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faize/pseuds/Faize
Summary: It was there, reduced to the smallest fraction of himself that Alex Mercer understood the breadth of his power.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Prototypical

It was there, reduced to the smallest fraction of himself that Alex Mercer understood the breadth of his power. To still exist as nascent cells and flotsam, just barely having thought. He'd survived a **fucking** nuke. Now, with his limited capacity for thought and the waves unpleasantly pulling on him his thoughts were upon Dana. He could damn the whole island if not for her. A selfish thought, but ultimately beneficial. He'd already fucked up once and that had caught him a lot of shit. Now everyone would think him dead. And that gave him a much better position to protect, without Blackwatch breathing down his back.

As soon as he could muster the strength, he made his way back to the good doctor's stead, where Dana currently rested in a comatose state. The doctor seemed both shocked and unsurprised at his sudden appearance.

"What happened with the nuke?! I thought-"

"I got better." Alex growled, cutting him off. "How's Dana?" 

"Much the same as when you left, I'm afraid. There's not a lot that can be done right now except care for her and hope she wakes up. I've pulled some strings with the department and at least for now, we can keep her here." 

"What do you mean 'hope she wakes up'?!" He snarled pointing a sharp finger accusingly at the doctor. He could hear the whispers of medical knowledge telling him what Ragland said was true but he couldn't believe it.

"...There is a chance she might wake up sooner if you spoke to her. Sometimes a patient can recover because of continued external interaction from friends or family members." 

Alex nodded, slowly processing the new information. (that's bullshit, but I believe it.) His newly limited mental network couldn't see any flaw in the doctor's idea. Thus, he walked to where Dana rested, still and almost unmoving. She looked so fragile, so weak. He paused a moment before nervously sitting down on a chair, mutedly thankful that his lack of biomass prevented the chair from immediately breaking apart.

He had no idea what to say. He held little in common with her, other than the body of her brother. From what he'd gleaned of Alexander Mercer he was also different from her, hadn't spoken to her in years. How could he say he's not actually her brother or worse, that he both is and isn't. He had no clear answer for what he was, contrary to Cross's blunt statements that had shocked him in days past. He was more than Greene, more than Alex Mercer, he just couldn't describe why. Maybe it was just because he was stronger, but that wasn't true. Dana was stronger than him, she had faith; something he could barely fathom. And now she had nothing. 

Do something. Give as you have so often taken. The thoughts whispered, scolding him. After what seemed like forever, he decided. He would start at the beginning, when he still believed himself to be wholly Alex and nothing less. 

It took a while to retell, many times he'd have to go over what he said, to degloss the lies that were all too easy to spout. Ragland said nothing of it, as he should. Only wary glances, giving way to dull understanding as time went on. In the end, his story involved his feelings far too often, and part of him loathed feeling so vulnerable. What he felt felt more real as he said it, less and less like an imprinted falsehood. When he'd finally recounted all of it, two weeks had passed. He felt almost relieved and..empty. She still looked the same as she had before he'd started, and he had nothing left.

Frustration welled inside him, writhing and squirming inside. Do something. He left without saying anything, back to old paths and hunting grounds, seeking thrill. There were still a few pockets of infected below the city, Blackwatch and the army too scattered by losses to do more than quarantine the area for the time being. Not much they could do to cover the entire sewer system so it was trivial to slip in and ease his thirst for conflict. The infected were like rats here, scurrying about in packs, desperate for the smallest morsel to rip apart. They came to him, making it all the easier to drive a blade inside and take them in. After picking off a few small groups he had to stop himself. He couldn't afford to rip them all apart yet, there was still more days to be had, and for now he was sated. Restraint was another trait he had that made him better than Greene or these beasts. He could refrain from slaughtering them all, from converting everything he saw. He had wondered that for some time. 

Why did he have a choice? Redlight couldn't help but replicate, freely and openly and from what he had seen there was some instinctual need to spread: to have more and more infected. He felt no such urge, no desire to make someone like him. In fact, as he thought about it, the idea disgusted him. It was for the best really. On his own he'd caused enough disaster for one New York City.

Musing upon the landmass he called his home; Alex had an idea. Flowers were something people gave to those they cared about, especially if they were unwell. So, flowers he would get, and he just happened to know Dana's favorite type of flower. Unfortunately, the outbreak had left the city with a distinct lack of florists, although after a few hours he managed to find one stubborn bud still working in the city. Alex put hyacinths next to Dana in a cheap plastic blue vase (which he had filled with water as the florist so insisted). He smiled lightly at the flowers, sure that no-one would be able to see it.

Sleep had long evaded him since he was so abruptly awoken the day he was 'born'. It felt unnatural to lay in one place for so long. He was far too restless to try it for more than a few minutes. Therefore, he had more time than he knew what to do with. Much of it was spent unpleasantly staring at flat objects or wandering the city in another’s skin. Currently he spent a lot of time fretting. Alex was not a fretter. Must be someone he'd consumed. The tiles had worn a bit because of the hours of constant pacing he did at night. Ragland wouldn't let him do it in the day due to the incessant noise. 

It was a Wednesday. He was replacing the wilted flowers when he heard it. A small, almost imperceptible change in breathing. Startled, the vase cracked in his hand, spurting water from the new gashes. 

"Shit." He placed the crushed vase down, ignoring the mess for the moment. He moved over to Dana looking at her nervously. She was still breathing at an altered pace and Alex's emotions wavered between hope and fear.

"Nngh..." she stirred, "Wait Where's-" Startled, Dana searched with her eyes looking lost and confused. 

"You...saved me." She spoke. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." 

"How long have I been out?" She asked. 

Alex was at a loss for words having a tenuous relationship with time. Thankfully, Ragland took the time to reply. 

"It's been a month, give or take a few days. Personally, I'm surprised you woke up this early. Alex, Dana if it's all right with you I'd like to run some tests later, make sure your condition is stable." 

"Later. " Alex growled, a protective arm thrown between Ragland and Dana. 

"Yeah, in a bit." Dana replied, still groggy from her sleep. 

Turning back to her, Alex watched her expectantly, looking for any indication of the knowledge he had imposed upon her unconscious self. Dana raised her eyebrow. 

"Alex, why are you trying to drill through my skull with your eyes? Find something interesting?" 

Alex swiftly looked away towards the floor before giving a different look, something unfathomable. 

"...I missed you." 

And with that statement Alex turned and left, out the door and onto the street. Dana looked onward, still processing all that her brother was and might be as her brain tried to catch up from the long absence. 

That talk about restraint? That just went out the window, Alex thought. Now was the time for action and he had to prepare. Soon, very soon, New York would be naught but a memory. 

He had places he needed to see, places he wanted Dana to see. 

Hope, Idaho was first on that list.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some ideas of where this is going to lead; I'll update the main summary when it happens and add the old one to the pre-notes of this chapter. Other than that, enjoy.


End file.
